


The Yeast I Can Do

by elanev91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Baker!James Potter, Doctor!Lily Evans, F/M, Mentioned Dorcas Meadows, Mentioned Marlene McKinnon, Mentioned Marlene x Dorcas, Mentioned Mary MacDonald, Mentioned Remus Lupin, Mentioned Wolfstar, Wow I mention a lot of shit don't I, mentioned Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanev91/pseuds/elanev91
Summary: Dr Lily Evans had an absolute shit day at work. Luckily, there's a bakery nearby that offers a course that she hopes will take her mind off of things.





	The Yeast I Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @professor-riddikulus and @beks21 for their read-throughs, notes, and time spent listening to me ramble about these baking nerds.

It was, easily, one of her favourite shops in all of London. She'd never been inside, but it was still, without a doubt, her favourite. Marlene routinely told her that loving a shop she'd never been into made her certifiably mad, but Lily just told her to shove off. She had her reasons.

Bread Head, easily the most amusing bakery name in the world, was right on her walk to work (sort of), the smell coming out of there in the early morning was _absolutely fucking divine,_ and the men she'd seen behind the counter weren't bad either. She'd noticed the "Classes Offered" sign in the window, made a mental note every morning to call them and ask when they were hosting them, but, upon entering the hospital, she was always swept up in something or another and she always forgot.

Maybe that was why she was here today. Today had been a rough fucking day and she needed something, anything to distract her.

She'd known, going into the operating theatre, that it was going to be a difficult surgery. That there was a sizeable chance of failure. That her patient's parents were prepared, as prepared as they could be, for the very real possibility that their baby wouldn't be coming out of surgery. But when it had come down to it, and she'd been _so close_ to finishing it successfully before… fuck, before she'd bled out on the table, it ripped her heart apart. She had been so fucking close, so close to giving this little girl back to her parents, to giving her a _future._

Lily tried to do all the normal things, all the things that you're supposed to do after a loss.

She reminded herself that the little girl, Olivia, _Olivia,_ wouldn't have been able to live long with that heart defect. That she'd had to undergo surgery or she _definitely_ wouldn't have had a future. That she had a teeny tiny little heart and Lily had _almost_ fixed it - she'd done all she could have done. Every single bloody thing. It just hadn't been enough.

She wasn't normally the dramatic type - she was easy going, even-keeled when she had a scalpel in her hand. She had losses, everyone had losses, but she'd always dealt with them soberly, always steadied herself before she went back to report the devastating news to the family. But this case was different. She was attached. She wanted, no, _needed,_ this victory - for Olivia, for her parents… for herself. She'd come to love the little girl, her bright laugh, her brilliant smiles, the babble she emitted in a near constant stream as she tried to figure out what in the hell language was and how to wield it.

About fifteen minutes after Olivia had flatlined, after her fellow surgeons had finally managed to still Lily's hands, to keep them from reaching for the tiny little internal paddles again and again, she felt numb. She'd thrown her instruments back into the tray, screamed a colourful variety of obscenities, and stormed out of theatre. Her mask, gowns, cap were off in a matter of moments and she scrubbed her hands furiously under water that was far too hot for her skin, staring, _just staring_ at them all in there, watching as they stitched her tiny chest back up, cleaned her off, wrapped her up in blankets, placed her back into the isolation crib that had brought her there.

She'd braced herself against the metal surgical sink, her fingers gripping onto the sides like it was the only thing tethering her to the fucking planet. Screaming 'FUCK!' had helped, momentarily, but it had done nothing to steady her nerves and she was going to need them. She was going to have, easily, the toughest conversation of her career, with a family she'd come to love, and she needed to be okay. She needed to be their rock, what _they_ held onto, because this was their _daughter,_ their infant fucking daughter, and she'd died and they were going to need someone to tell them, earnestly, that they would get through this. That this wouldn't sink them, that they could carry on.

She took a deep breath and focused her eyes on her reflection in the window to the operating theatre. _You can do this, Evans. You're a fucking surgeon for god's sake, you knew this was part of the job. You did your bloody best. You can do this._

Telling Olivia's parents had been, as she'd known it would be, a fucking travesty. She'd tried to remain distant, tried to channel her mentor from clinicals, tried to just _give them the facts,_ but she'd ended up with tears streaming down her face while she told them that 'Really, you can call me anytime. You can be with her as long as you need. Please, let me know if you need anything, here's my personal mobile number, I'm so, so sorry.'

They hadn't blamed her. They'd cried, Olivia's mum had wrapped her in a hug, thanked her for doing everything that she possibly could to save their baby.

She'd cried in the on-call room for about an hour before she finally got it together enough to leave. She'd just pulled her wool coat on overtop of her hospital issue scrubs and plunked a hat on her head before venturing out into the night.

It wasn't that late, maybe half eight, but it was early January and so it was fairly dark. She was on call, so her mobile was set to ring in her pocket, and but she wasn't ready to go home. She needed sleep, but she couldn't just go back to her flat and sit there in the dark and do nothing. She needed to do something with her hands, needed to go somewhere to get her mind off of everything that had happened that day.

She was wandering aimlessly around the streets, staring into shop windows as she passed. After a half an hour or so of wandering, she found herself, somehow, in front of Bread Head - the lights were on inside and there was a man, the devastatingly handsome, bespectacled one, standing there kneading dough at the long stone-top table in the centre of the bakery.

Before she realised what she was doing, before she could come to her fucking senses, she opened the door.

He looked up as soon as she walked in and smiled warmly at her - it was one of _those_ smiles, a smile that, on any other day, would have knocked her right on her arse. Today, it washed over her, barely registered. Her hands were shaking.

'Sorry,' she said, looking around herself as though she wasn't quite aware of where she was, 'I… you're closed, aren't you?'

The man brushed his hands against his apron, bright red, she noted ( _How isn't he covered in flour?_ ), and leaned casually against the table. 'Well, according to our door, we are.' He smirked, 'But as I own the place, I'd say we can be open for you…'

He trailed off and she wasn't sure why until she realised he was waiting for her to fill in her name. 'Lily,' she said, she cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing, 'Dr Lily Evans.'

He grinned, 'James. Baker Extraordinaire James Potter,' he held his hand out across the table and Lily walked further into the bakery, shook it briefly, 'And what can I do for you?'

Lily flushed again, 'I was… well,' she cleared her throat again, 'I saw you had the sign about classes and I've been meaning to stop by forever and I just kept forgetting because,' she pulled her badge out from her jacket and waved it haphazardly, ' _doctor,_ and I had a really, really rough day today and I don't know, I was going to just keep walking home but I want to do _something_ with my hands, something that isn't surgery and I thought bread might be nice.'

She trailed off - James was studying her, but he wasn't laughing. She would have been laughing at her, _how isn't he laughing_ , but instead he smiled warmly, softly, at her and said 'Do you like pizza, Dr Evans?'

She quirked her eyebrow, confused, 'Yes, I love pizza. And please,' she smiled just a bit, 'just Lily.' His smile got wider, impossibly so, _I have literally never met anyone that smiles this bloody much_ and he held up a finger, turned, and disappeared through a door and into, presumably, the back of the bakery.

She stood awkwardly at the table, her eyes moving over the slick of what appeared to be oil on the marble tabletop while she listened to him banging around in the back room. The dough ball he'd been kneading was still sitting there, a roll of clingfilm discarded in a corner where it had clearly been tossed earlier. He came back a minute later, his arms laden with things and Lily rushed around the table, 'Let me help you!'

James grinned when she took a jar of what looked like flour out of his hands.

He laid everything out on the table before mumbling something that sounded vaguely like 'bollocks' under his breath - he pulled off a piece of clingfilm from the roll, wrapped it quickly around the dough on the table, and crossed the shop to put it in a fridge near the front door.

'What's that?' she asked, nodding towards the fridge. James grinned, 'Pizza dough. We make a small batch every night, pre-kneaded, so that when people buy it all they have to do is wait for it to rise while they're at work.'

Lily's jaw dropped, 'It takes that long to rise!?' James laughed, 'The slower the rise, the more flavourful the dough, Dr Evans.'

She rolled her eyes, 'I told you to call me Lily.'

'I know.' He winked.

She tried to scowl, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gave her away, and he beamed at her.

'Alright, _Lily,'_ he smiled, and she sighed, rolling her eyes again, 'Have you ever made pizza dough before?'

She shook her head, 'Being a surgeon doesn't afford me a lot of time to get fancy in the kitchen.'

James clicked his tongue, 'That's a shame. Fortunately, I think you'll _rise_ to the challenge.' He winked again, and she groaned. He just laughed, 'Oh, you don't like puns?'

'I can roll with it, but I'm not in the mood for them today if I'm honest.'

He smirked, 'I see you, Lily. But I suppose I could relax for today if you're having naan of it.' She grinned, laughed in spite of herself. He beamed.

'Alright,' James pulled a pinny from a hook on the back wall and handed it to her, 'this is everything you'll need. I'm going to walk you through it, but you're going to make it all by yourself. Think you can handle it?'

Lily tossed her jacket into a far corner, pulled the pinny over her head, wrapped the apron strings around her back, tied a knot in front of her stomach, 'I thought you said I'd rise to the challenge?'

James grinned, 'Just checking. This is serious business, I need to know that you're up for it.'

Lily laughed as she took her place beside James at the table, and James just smiled at her.

'Alright,' James slid his scale in front of him and nodded for Lily to do the same, 'we're going to make one ball at a time, so measure out 300 grams of flour.'

James set a bowl on top of her scale, zeroed it, and began scooping flour out of the jar between them. Lily mimicked him, the corner of her lip between her teeth, while James talked about flour - 'We're using bread flour because of the higher protein content. This is a solid 16%, so we're going to end up with a nice, gluten-y dough.' She tried not to roll her eyes, but she had to admit, he was a _bit_ cute when he rambled on about ingredients.

Lily turned to him as soon as she finished measuring, 'Okay, now what?'

James picked up the salt bowl, dumped a bit into the palm of his hand, 'A teaspoon of salt to one side of the bowl, your spoons are there - '

Lily laughed, 'Don't think I can do your fancy palm measuring trick?'

James smirked, 'Alright then, try it.'

Lily dumped a bit of salt into her palm, and James smirked at her, 'Now measure it out, see how much you've got.'

James smirked as she dumped a teaspoon of salt into her spoon and still had a sizeable amount in her hand. Lily swore, 'Fuck, how did you do that?'

James chuckled, 'Lots of practise. Here,' he held the salt bowl up, and Lily tipped her hand so the salt spilled back in. 'Cup your hand like this,' he curved his hand like he had before so a small indentation formed in the centre of his palm, 'now dump your teaspoon of salt in there. Now you know about where on your palm you need to fill for the right measurement.'

Lily hummed, 'Brill,' dumped the salt on one side of her bowl.

'Okay,' James smiled at her, 'half a teaspoon of yeast. Other side of the bowl so they don't touch.'

James measured in his hand again, Lily measured hers out in her spoon before dropping into her palm, 'Why can't they touch?' She dropped the yeast onto the other side of her bowl.

'The salt can make the yeast ineffective,' James said as he picked his bowl up off the scale and set it aside, placed a large cup on top. Lily did the same, turned and raised her eyebrow, 'Now what?'

'We need 180 mils of water - I'm going to go grab some from the kitchen.'

Lily nodded and James disappeared, returned a moment later with a large jug. They measured out their water, James set the cup up beside the bowl, switched off his scale, and set it on the bottom of the work bench. Lily copied him.

'Alright,' James rubbed his hands together, smiled broadly, 'now the fun part. Drizzle a bit of oil from your bottle onto the table in front of you and put about a teaspoon into your hand.'

Lily cocked an eyebrow, 'Which hand?'

James dumped oil into his left, 'Doesn't matter.'

She copied him and did the left.

'Okay, so we're going to pour about three quarters of the water into the centre of the bowl,' Lily picked up the cup and James made a sound to stop her, 'not yet! Three quarters of the water into the centre of the bowl, rub the oil through your hands, and mix.'

'With my hand?'

James chuckled at the surprise in her voice, 'With your hand. Hence the oil. You'll probably need more water but you don't want the dough to be too wet, so you'll have to feel it out.'

'Can't I watch you do it first so I know what it looks like?'

James shook his head, 'You're going to feel it out.'

Lily scoffed, 'How am I supposed to - '

'I'm _teaching_ you, Dr Evans.'

'It's Lily!'

James smiled, 'I know, just reminding you that if you can get out of medical school, you can knead some pizza dough.'

She huffed, and James grinned, 'Get your water.'

James dumped his water into the bowl, spread oil through his hands, and began mixing the dough in long, smooth moves. He clicked his tongue at her, 'Go on, Evans.'

She huffed, poured her water into the bowl, rubbed her hands together, started mixing.

'Now,' James added a bit more water to his bowl, 'you want to add just enough water so that all the flour comes together into the dough, but it shouldn't been too sticky.'

Lily hummed in acknowledgement, and though she didn't look up from her bowl, she saw James smirking at her out of the corner of her eye. A moment later, James scooped his dough out of the bowl and dropped it onto the table. He rolled the dough lightly on the table while he watched Lily finish mixing.

She dumped her dough onto the table, 'This good?'

James nodded, 'Surprisingly good.'

Lily scoffed, 'Please, I _am_ a doctor, Mr Baking Extraordinaire Potter.'

James chuckled, shook his head, 'Alright then, Dr Evans, now we knead.'

Lily rolled her dough as James had, 'Okay, how do I do that?'

'Smooth movements,' James pushed the dough across the table, 'turn it round, start again,' he folded the dough back on itself, pressed the dough away from him again. 'Don't be afraid to hurt it, be a bit rough with it.'

Lily noticed that his eyes were twinkling at her as he said it, but she ignored him, determined to get this right. She nodded, pushed the dough away from her, folded it underneath her hands. 'It's a bit sticky,' she said, smoothing the dough back and forth across the stone, trying to get the pieces stuck between her fingers to cling to the dough she was working instead of her hands. James glanced at her dough, 'It's alright. It's always a bit sticky at first.'

She couldn't help herself this time - she smirked, and James must have seen her do it from the corner of his eye because he chuckled, 'Shut up, Evans.'

She took to repeating the steps in her head, something to keep her mind occupied while they kneaded. James chattered on while they worked, talked about when he'd started the bakery, his mates that helped him in the early years, how he'd put his menu together. He didn't seem to expect her to respond, didn't expect her to care even, but he seemed to guess (correctly) that she needed the endless babble to keep her mind from wandering back and lingering over the failures of the day, that, though she wasn't speaking herself, silence was the absolute last thing she wanted right now. Listening to him talk about the intricacies of sourdough, it turned out, was a fantastic distraction from the fact that she'd killed a girl today.

_You didn't kill anyone. Press, turn, fold. Press, turn, fold. Press, turn, fold._

James cleared his throat and drew her out of her head after a few minutes, smiled at her, 'So this,' he pulled a bit of dough off the mass on the table, started stretching it between his fingers, 'is what you're looking for. You should be able to stretch it thin enough that you can see the light through, but it shouldn't break.'

Lily hummed, 'Mine's not ready to do that yet, is it?'

James glanced at her dough, and shook his head, 'No, but why don't you try it anyway. Get a sense of how far you have to go.'

James wrapped his dough in clingfilm and put it in the refrigerator at the front of the shop while Lily tested her dough. 'Fuck,' she said, pressing the piece she'd pulled off back into the ball on the table, 'it ripped almost immediately.'

James pulled his scale back out from under the table, started measuring out ingredients for another batch, 'Don't worry, Evans, you'll get there.'

James went back to rambling on and on about his mates, told her all kinds of stories about growing up in London ('Notting Hill, actually,' he said, smirking at her, 'it wasn't what it is now when my parents bought the place after the war. They were dead lucky, really'), the trouble he and his friends used to get into as kids, ('Sirius, Remus, and I used to do the _maddest_ things as kids…. We used to be best mates with this bloke named Peter, but… well, let's just say that didn't end too well. I think he works for Nigel Farage or something now, fucking bastard') - the sound of his voice was comforting, soothing when she combined it with the steady motion of her hands back and forth across the surface of the table, the heels of her palm pressing into the increasingly smooth ball of dough she was kneading. She found she _liked_ talking to him, that she genuinely wanted to learn more about him, so she talked a bit more now, asked him questions about his mates, encouraging him to tell her the weirdest things they'd done together, what uni had been like, why he'd opened a bakery of all things. He'd told her that he just 'always liked baking,' but his tone had shifted a little when he said it. It was barely perceptible, but she didn't press the point. They'd just met, after all, and she had no right to know.

James wrapped his second bit of dough in clingfilm and walked over to drop it into the fridge. 'How have you finished _two_ already?!' Lily turned a bit to glare at him, 'I'm still not done my first one!'

James didn't pull his scale out this time, just leaned on the table opposite Lily and watched her knead, 'I just know what I'm doing.' He winked.

Lily scoffed, 'Excuse me?!'

James laughed, as he headed back to the kitchen to wash his hands, 'I've been doing this for years, Evans, I should hope I'm a bit better at this than you.'

Lily hummed, turned back and kneaded her dough as he disappeared through the back door, 'We'll see how long that lasts, Potter.'

With his hands free and his mind now entirely unoccupied, James took to a more dramatic form of storytelling that had Lily nearly doubled over with laughter a few times, her palm pressing uselessly into the dough in an effort to stabilise herself. She was surprised by how much his hands moved when he told a story, how wide and enthusiastic his gestures were. He knocked his glasses right off his face a few times, and every time it happened Lily _screamed_ with laughter. He always laughed with her, asked her where his glasses went, and carefully scooped them up from wherever she indicated, and jumped right back into his narrative. He was only careful with his hands for a few minutes after that, but it wasn't long before he was sweeping his hands again and jostling his specs.

When she finally managed to get her dough to the right spot, she was way, _way_ more excited than was probably appropriate - but James matched her excitement, whooped, and gave her a high five, so she figured that it was fine that she'd punched the air like she just won the fucking Tour de France. She grabbed the clingfilm from underneath the table, wrapped up her dough and presented it to him. James grinned, 'That's yours, Evans. You've earned it.'

She gaped at him, 'What?!'

He nodded, 'Yeah. When you want pizza, just set that in a bowl in the morning, let it rise. Oh, and drop some oil on it so it doesn't stick.' He walked over to the till and grabbed a paper bag from behind the counter and handed it to her.

He ran a hand through his hair, 'I'm just going to get cleaned up, close down. You don't have to stick around if you don't want to.'

'No,' she said, and she set her dough in the bag and put it on top of her coat in the corner, 'this is my mess, too, I'm not just leaving it here. Especially if you're not charging me for this.'

'You sure,' James asked as he grabbed the bowls from underneath the table.

'Yeah,' she said, 'of course.' She hung her pinny back up on the hook and grabbed the rest of the stuff under the table and followed James into the kitchen.

They scrubbed out the dishes they'd dirtied, put all the ingredients back on the shelves, and cleaned the table out in the bakery, chatting all the while. She was feeling happier now, more relaxed, and though she couldn't believe it because she couldn't have known James for more than two hours, she just decided to go with it. She told him about Marlene, about growing up outside Leeds (he'd screamed then 'YOU DON'T SOUND NORTHERN!' and she'd just laughed, 'You should hear me when I go home, believe me. It all comes flooding back.'). She even, when he begged her to tell him something embarrassing, told him about the giant stuffed squid she'd had until she was fifteen, the one she'd begged her parents to get her when she thought she was going to grow up to be a marine biologist.

'That doesn't sound embarrassing,' James said, raising an eyebrow at her as he shut off the kitchen lights and they walked back out into the bakery. 'Oh,' she said, 'did I mention that he used to live in the bottom of my rucksack and came with me literally everywhere until Marlene threw him into the river?'

'Oh my god,' James said laughing, 'you didn't give it up voluntarily!?'

She laughed, 'Nope. And I didn't talk to Marls for a week after that.'

James shut off the lights in the bakery while Lily stepped outside. She waited for James while he locked the door, hands in her pockets, a bit unsure about what to do now. He turned around and smiled at her as he stuffed the keys in his pocket. 'Which way you headed,' he asked.

'I live just across from Red Lion Square.'

'No fucking way,' James said, laughing, 'I live just a few blocks west of there.'

They were talking about his favourite things to bake as they crossed Theobalds, and Great James became Bedford when a thought struck her. 'Wait,' she said, starting to laugh, 'your bakery is on Great James Street.'

James raised an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, 'Yeah,' he said, the smirk starting to break through, 'and?'

'You did that on purpose!'

He shrugged, but he was smiling broadly now, 'Who knows.'

She smacked his arm, 'You _did_!'

He laughed, loud and long, 'In my defence,' he said, still chuckling, 'I couldn't resist when the place came up for sale. How was I supposed to pass that up?'

'It's just _so_ ridiculous,' she said, rolling her eyes at him.

'As ridiculous as you going out of your way to walk past my bakery on your way to and from work?'

'How do you know I go out of my way?'

'You said when you got there tonight that you'd walked from work and you live just a few blocks south of Great Ormond Street, so I'm just assuming that's where you work. You walk east towards my place to then walk back west to get to work.'

He looked so fucking pleased with himself that she wanted to smack him.

'I _might_ detour a bit,' she admitted, 'but it's only so I can get my steps in.'

James snorted, 'Oh, well that's good, I've heard surgeons have to sit chained to a desk all day. I've been worried about you.'

This time she did smack him, on the shoulder, and he just laughed louder. 'It's alright, Dr E,' he said, smirking at her, 'you can just admit that you go out of your way every morning to see if you can see me in the bakery.'

She scoffed, 'Don't you wish, Potter.'

He grinned, 'Maybe I do, Evans.'

She rolled her eyes.

He walked her right up to her gate, despite her insistence that she made this walk alone all the time and that she was _fine._ James had shaken his head, told her that he'd never forgive himself if she got hurt on his watch ('I'm not on _your watch,_ you prat, for fucks' sake'), and promised her that she could come pester him at the bakery as often as she wanted if she would _please_ just let him walk her home.

There was literally no way that she was going to say no to that.

As soon as they got to the square and walked round her side of the street, Lily felt her stomach clench a bit nervously. She wasn't sure what the protocol was, how they were supposed to say goodbye - it wasn't like it was a _date_ (right?) and it wasn't like he had _expectations._ But he could, right? She hadn't dated in a truly embarrassing amount of time (usually with the excuse that the hospital didn't afford her much time to go out into the world and find eligible people to date), so maybe the rules had changed since… well, uni.

She slowed as she approached her place, a white terrace house she'd bought last year after she got tired of Marlene making fun of her for still living in their old med school flat. It barely looked lived in, unless you counted the red flowers in the giant pots on her front step, and those were Mary's addition to the place, not hers. James raised an eyebrow as they stopped in front of her gate, 'This is your place?'

She shrugged, 'Marlene was making fun of my for living in our old flat, so I finally cracked and bought a place.'

'Damn Evans,' he said, grinning when she shot him a glare, 'and you tried to get all worked up when I told you about my family's place in Notting Hill.'

Lily snorted, 'I didn't get worked up!'

James grinned, 'You tried, though.'

She groaned, 'You're exasperating.'

He laughed, 'Don't I know it.'

She grinned at him for a moment before they fell silent. She shuffled her weight between her feet, her hand on the gate, fiddling with the catch as she decided what to do.

'So - '

'Would you - '

They both laughed. James buried his hand in his hair, and gave her a sheepish smile. 'Sorry,' he said, 'you go first.'

She chuckled awkwardly, 'I was just going to ask if you'd mind if I kept stopping by. I know you said that I could if I let you walk me home, but, uh, you know, I'd actually like to.' He quirked an eyebrow at her and she hastily elaborated, 'For the pizza, I mean.'

He nodded as though he agreed, but the smile on his face told a completely different story. 'Right,' he said, his smile growing as he looked at her, 'the pizza.'

She rolled her eyes at him again, 'What were you going to say?'

He grinned, ran a hand through his hair, 'Same thing, actually.'

She shot him a look, 'No way.'

He nodded, 'Way. I had a lot of fun chatting with you, Evans. You're more than welcome to make pizza with me anytime.'

'I'll hold you to that,' she said, flicking open the latch and backing through the gate. James grinned at her as she walked up the path, 'Wouldn't have it any other way.'

She took him at his word and started popping by the shop more often, at first every few weeks or so, then every week, eventually a few times a week. She almost always got there after the bakery closed, and even though James never knew when she was coming, he was always there, at the table in the bakery, kneading dough whenever she arrived.

'You didn't used to make your dough out here,' she said one night in early February, as she tossed her winter jacket into the corner and grabbed her pinny off the hook. He just smiled at her, slid the jug of flour to her side of the table, 'What can I say. It grew on me, I guess.'

They didn't exchange numbers until the third time she'd stopped by to see him, mostly because she wasn't sure they were _those_ kind of friends, and then it just seemed awkward to ask because they'd been hanging out for so long already. She finally just blurted it out one night while they were standing outside her gate ('DoyouthinkthatIcouldhaveyourmobilenumber?') and he laughed, 'I was wondering when you were going to ask, Evans.'

She smacked him, but she still got his number.

They texted slowly at first, just little messages about things they'd noticed or thought about, but it wasn't long until they maintained a near constant stream of messages throughout the day.

_25 February - 21:13_

_James Potter: I can't believe it took you a month to ask for my number_

_James Potter: And then you just SHOUTED at me that you wanted it_

_James Potter: You're so ridiculous hahahaha x_

_Lily Evans: You're lucky I don't want to get out of bed, Potter, because otherwise I'd walk right back outside and smack you_

_James Potter: You're in bed already?!_

_Lily Evans: Life of a surgeon, very tiring. Now go away zzzzzz xx_

_5 March - 06:14_

_Lily Evans: So you know my fetal surgery training?_

_James Potter: Yeah…._

_Lily Evans: DOING MY FIRST SOLO FETO TODAY_

_James Potter: FUCKING HELL CONGRATS EVANS_

_James Potter: (what's a FETO)_

_Lily Evans: Fetoscopic endoluminal tracheal occlusion_

_James Potter: yeah, that clears up nothing BUT GOOD LUCK XX_

_Lily Evans: THANKS XX_

_13 March - 10:42_

_James Potter: Guess what I just finished making x_

_Lily Evans: GETTING READY TO GO INTO THEATRE, TELL ME FAST_

_James Potter: *image attached*_

_Lily Evans: Oh, you fucking brilliant man, BLESS YOU. Save me a slice, I'll be there at 2000 x_

_11 April - 01:13_

_Lily Evans: I know you're sleeping, but I saw this and I feel like you need it x_

_Lily Evans: *image attached*_

_11 April - 04:52_

_James Potter: Yes - yes, I need that. Why were you up at 1am Evans? X_

_11 April - 11:12_

_Lily Evans: Night shift. I'm fucking dead_

_James Potter: I hope you don't have to operate tonight_

_Lily Evans: No, just checking up on patients, thank god. I'm stopping by on my way in, have a cuppa and a scone ready for me pleaseeee? X_

_James Potter: As you wish, Dr E_

_Lily Evans: ughhhh_

_James Potter: I loaf youuu_

_Lily Evans: UGHHHHH_

_James Potter: ;)_

One night, about mid-May, James had decided that she could upgrade to bread making. After spending nearly an _hour_ lecturing her about gluten and bread structure, and free form versus tin-shaped breads, he finally handed her the flour and yeast and let her get started.

'You know,' she said, smirking at him as she measured out her flour, 'I don't know that I needed that whole rant.'

James looked scandalised, 'How are you supposed to learn if I'm not teaching you, Evans?!'

'Oh,' she said, dropping yeast into her bowl, 'is that what's going on here? You're teaching me?'

James laughed, reached across the table and pushed her shoulder. She smacked his forearm as he pulled it away, sent him a wide smile. 'Alright Mr Baker Extraordinaire, what do I do once I've got all the dry ingredients in?'

They chatted while she kneaded, James occasionally slipping in comments about how _relaxing_ it is standing there and doing nothing while she worked. She flicked a bit of oil at him from the table, but was otherwise content to let him tease her.

She watched him watching her as she kneaded, watched the way his eyes followed her hands, the way his fingers sometimes twitched against the tabletop in imitation of her movements. He told her how to shape it when she was finished, moved his hands around an invisible loaf of bread, and she could tell from the way his hands curved around the air that he was really imagining it was there. It was little moments like that that were stunning, when he rattled off recipes from the top of his head, explained how different ratios of ingredients led to different products, or, perhaps most especially, when she watched him experimenting in the kitchen. He would throw ingredients into a bowl, a look of deep concentration on his face, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head, thinking five, six steps ahead of where he was to try and figure out what he needed to do to get where he wanted to go. She was astounded by him, by how much he knew, by how excited he got whenever he was talking about all the things he knew.

'So, why did you _really_ decide to open a bakery?'

James shrugged, 'I just always liked baking. Wanted to teach other people how to do it.'

'That's what you said when we first met. Surely there's another reason.' She rolled her dough between her hands, glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His lips were pressed together a bit and she should have felt a little bad about pushing him, but they were friends now. They hadn't hung out outside of the bakery yet, unless you counted their walks home, but they texted. Surely they were friends enough.

She stood quietly beside him, just kneaded her dough, but after a few minutes of quiet, just when she was ready to tell him not to worry about it, he sighed.

'My parents,' James said, as he grabbed the mixing bowl from underneath the table, set it on the scale, and started measuring out ingredients for his own dough, 'were chemists.'

Lily's brow furrowed and she turned slightly to face him as she pressed her palm into the dough, 'Were?'

James sighed, dumped a measure of flour into the bowl, waved off her concern, 'It was a few years ago. It's fine now.'

Lily nodded but didn't say anything, just kept smoothing the dough in front of her. She'd assumed, from the way he'd mentioned them back in January, that his parents were still alive. But you also don't exactly introduce yourself with, 'Hi, my parents are dead, want to make pizza,' so she couldn't exactly blame him for the wording.

'Anyway, they really wanted me to go into the family business - '

'Wait,' Lily's hands stilled on the dough in front of her, pieces clicking together rapidly in her head, and she turned completely to face him. He glanced up at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the scale, moving tiny amounts of flour into the bowl to level it out, 'Your parents weren't…'

James sighed again, moved the bowl off the scale, dumped a bit of salt into his palm and tossed it in, 'Yep. _The_ Potter Med Potters.'

'Holy fuck! Why didn't you tell me this _weeks_ ago?!'

James dumped some yeast into the bowl and coated his hands in oil, 'Because,' he added some water and began moving the mix around with his left hand, 'people usually react like _that_.'

He gestured at her with his right hand and she rolled her eyes, 'I'm not worshipping at your feet, you prat, I just can't believe that we've been talking for this long and I'm just now finding this out.'

James added the rest of the water to the bowl, mixed with both hands.

'This is kind of a big deal,' Lily said, turning back to the ball of dough in front of her, pressing her palm into the nearly smooth surface, 'But if you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to.'

They worked in silence, Lily kneading her ball of dough, periodically tearing off a small corner and testing its elasticity, James finished mixing, dumped his dough onto the worktop, began kneading.

'I just - '

They'd been quiet for about ten minutes and she had since started shaping her loaf, trying to get it into the "classic Bloomer shape" James had described earlier. She was dusting her bread, and she jumped when he spoke, dropping a spoonful of flour onto her apron.

'Fuck, sorry,' James' arm twitched like he wanted to run his hand through his hair, and she grinned at him. 'It's fine, it's your product I'm wasting.'

James chuckled, 'That's true.'

They lapsed back into silence for a moment, and Lily sliced the top of her loaf, set it on the baking tray James had prepared for her earlier. 'Anyway,' James said, 'they were chemists, so when I got accepted to Oxford to do a course in biochemistry, they were obviously thrilled.'

'Mum and Dad got really sick in the middle of my first year. I was lucky that Oxford wasn't too far away, that I could go home and visit them all the time - Dad died in January. Mum died a few weeks later.'

He didn't look up from his hands, just followed their progress back and forth across the table with his eyes. Lily didn't say anything, just waited for him to continue.

'It was uh… a really tough term. There were a bunch of times when I just wanted to quit, but Sirius and Remus told me they'd kill me if I did. And my parents would never have wanted me to quit anyway, so I didn't.'

'I started baking, at first, because it reminded me of them. They'd started bringing me into the kitchen when I was really small, when I was around three, letting me measure out ingredients, mix, that sort of thing. They baked my entire life - Mum always had something to bring to her many charity committee meetings, Dad made the fanciest bloody tarts at the school sale,' he smiled at her then, a sad smile that made her heart ache, a smile that told her how lovely his parents were, how much he loved them, he much he missed them.

'It was just small things at first,' James said, 'batches of biscuits I'd make for tea, cakes for birthdays, but it helped a lot, getting my hands dirty and doing something that reminded me so much of them.'

'That summer, I stayed in Oxford, got a job at Gatineau, this brilliant French bakery, and I just learned everything I could. The hours took some getting used to,' he laughed and smiled at her, 'but I loved it. I worked there the rest of the time I was in school, and, when I graduated, I decided to start my own place.'

'Sirius and Remus helped me out a lot in the beginning, filled in shifts so that I could get a break every once in awhile, that sort of thing. They still come in from time to time, I'm sure you've seen them here.'

She nodded, and he continued, 'I've been able to hire help for the past few years, so they aren't here as often anymore. Sirius'll sometimes stop by when he leaves the workshop and ring people up for a bit while he eats the rest of the day's biscuits, but I've basically barred Remus from helping now that he's so busy at the firm.'

'Why did you buy a place over here? Why not - '

'Live at my parents' place?'

She nodded. He sighed, 'I mean, it still feels like their place, you know? I know they aren't coming back, that the place has been mine for… fuck, over a decade now. I rented it at first becuase I just wasn't ready to live there, and I guess I just got used to it.'

'Anyway,' he said, and he started shaping his dough, moving his hands quickly over the surface, tucking as he went, 'I like living in Holburn. I'm sure I'll go back to Notting Hill eventually, but I'm happy for now.'

She hummed, leaned up against the side of the table and watched James work. 'Sirius said,' James said as he grabbed the knife from the corner and cut into the top of the dough, 'that I should think about opening a second shop over there. Maybe buy a small shop front or see if I can get the permits to convert the first floor of the house and then live in the upstairs. I think he's trying to get Remus to do some drawings to convince me, but it seems like Remus has resisted him so far.'

James set his loaf onto the tray beside hers, grabbed the tray and started walking back towards the kitchen. Lily followed him.

'Is that something you'd consider?'

James slid the loaves into the pre-heated oven, shrugged as he turned around to face her. 'I don't know,' he turned the tap on with his elbow, held the soap out to Lily before squirting some into his own hand, 'I think it could be nice. I've always loved that house and I _would_ like to live there again. I'd just have to hire up and train a full staff before I did anything like that. I wouldn't want to be running between Holburn and Notting Hill all the bloody time.'

'It's not like it's _that_ far,' Lily said, laughing, 'it's what… twenty minutes on the Central line?'

James shrugged, 'Yeah. But still. If I'm going to open a second shop, I want this one to be pretty much self-sufficient while I build up the new place.'

'Yeah,' Lily said, nodding, 'I get that. Just… think about it. Keep it on the table until you're ready.'

James nodded, walked over to the giant fridge on the back wall, pulled out two cans of Blackthorn and handed one to her. She laughed, 'You keep cider back here, and I'm just _now_ finding out about this?'

James winked, opened his can and took a long drag before he led them back out into the main bakery. They sat down on the floor just outside the kitchen, their backs against the wall, and drank quietly.

After a few minutes, Lily cleared her throat and James turned to her, raised his eyebrow. 'Thanks,' she said, as she turned her can around nervously in her hands, 'for trusting me with that.'

She glanced over at him and found James studying her, his expression unreadable. He held her gaze for a moment, and even now, after what had to have been an incredibly difficult conversation, his hazel eyes were warm behind his glasses. Her eyes flicked away from his, down to his mouth for the briefest moment before she really registered she was doing it, but then she noticed his tongue wetting his bottom lip, and her heart was pounding when her eyes met his again. His pupils were larger than before, drops of black in amber fire, and just when she thought he was going to lean in, he cleared his throat, took another long draught of his cider.

'Uh,' he reached up, ran a hand through his hair, and Lily exhaled a bit sharper than usual, leaned back so her shoulders were pressed against the wall again. 'Thanks,' James said, 'for… you know. Listening and pushing me a little.'

'I was worried it wasn't my place.'

'No,' James said, 'it's definitely your place. You're… we're mates, aren't we?'

He looked over at her again and there was something intense in his eyes, something she couldn't quite read, and her heart picked up speed and even though she wanted to say _no, James, we're not mates at all,_ she heard herself say, 'Yeah, we're mates,' instead.

She wasn't sure _what_ exactly had changed, but something had definitely shifted between them. They both texted a little more often, were a little cheekier in their conversation. They stood a little closer together at the table when she visited the bakery, their hands, forearms, shoulders brushed a bit more often, lingered a touch longer. She found herself noticing things about him that she hadn't before - the way he pushed his glasses up with the back of his wrist when he was covered in flour, how the left side of his mouth always hitched up just a _bit_ higher than the right when he smiled, the way his t-shirts stretched over the muscles of his shoulders.

The more she let herself notice things about him, the more she realised that _not mates_ was the case with James. She liked the way he tousled his hair, the way his head fell back a bit when he laughed, how loud and deep his laugh was. It had taken her _months_ to realise how she felt about him, having been out of the game as long as she had been, but now that she'd noticed, she couldn't _stop_ noticing. Her heart raced every time their eyes met across the table, when he wrapped his hands firmly around her own when she was too lazy to shape the bread the right way, when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders while they walked home, his laughter ringing in her ears.

She liked him, liked him _a lot_ , but her life was busy and there was no way that James wanted someone who couldn't be home at least occasionally, who was carrying around the ghosts of the children she hadn't been able to save. She thought, sometimes, that she was wrong (when he brushed his fingers along her shoulders when he removed his arm, when he held her gaze a bit longer than normal), but she figured that it was wishful thinking more than anything else. And anyway, even if it wasn't, her life, her world was too busy to pull someone else into it. There were still times when she didn't leave the hospital for days, when she retreated into her own head for hours, when she just wanted to be alone. James had accommodated her, had left her messages on her mobile ( _You've been quiet today - let me know if you need to talk, here or at the shop. I'm here for you xxxx_ ), seemed to know when she truly needed space and when she was just playing at needing it.

He seemed to get her, to understand the lines and limits of her life, but it still didn't feel fair to subject him to that. Because she liked James more than she ever expected she'd like _anyone,_ and she didn't want to throw that away on a whim. So she visited him in the bakery, and sometimes they baked and sometimes they just drank cider and laughed, he walked her home, lingered longer and longer outside her gate before he eventually shooed her inside. They texted constantly, the only space where Lily felt comfortable pushing their boundaries.

They were walking home one evening in late June, the air hot and thick with humidity, the sun still low on the horizon, cider buzzing in their veins, when Lily decided that digital boundary pushing was hardly pushing at all.

They were leaning against her gate, her back pressed up against the iron bars, James standing close in front of her, one arm braced against the bar closest to her right side. James laughed at something she said, reached up and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow, swore about how _fucking_ hot it was. She nodded, followed his hand as it buried itself in his hair, 'Why don't you come get a bottle of water before you go home?'

James' hand froze momentarily in his hair before it dropped heavily to his side, 'In your house?'

She shot him a look, 'No, at my little shop just down the way.'

James groaned, Lily laughed, and he reached up behind the gate and undid the latch so that she stumbled backward off the gate. He grabbed her hand so she didn't fall, laughed so hard he bent at the waist a bit, and even though she smacked him in the chest with her free hand and called him a 'bawbaging bastard,' she squeezed his hand and pulled him up the path towards her front step.

She dropped his hand while she dug through her bag for her keys, kicked her shoes off and stacked them neatly in the bottom of the cupboard beside the door when she got inside. James dropped his shoes by the door and followed her down the long corridor towards a door at the end, tried to keep himself from gasping _too_ loudly in awe as they moved into her kitchen.

She'd heard him, though, and she turned, raised an eyebrow at him as she grabbed two water bottles out of the refrigerator, 'What?'

'Your house is stunning,' he said, undoing the cap and taking a long drink of the water. She waved him off, 'No it isn't.'

James laughed, 'You know what I love about you, Evans? How great you are at taking compliments.'

She laughed, pitched her cap at him, 'Fuck off.' He caught it (much to her annoyance) and tossed it back, so that it arced and bounced off of her head. He roared with laughter as she scowled at him, 'You're lucky I don't feel like mopping up water off my floor, Potter, because I swear to god.'

He leaned back against the bench, grinning at her as he took another long drink of his water. She did her best to keep from tracing the long lines of his body with her eyes.

They chatted while they drank, Lily leaning up against the bench next to him, a bit closer than was probably advisable, the water slowly dulling the cider buzz in her brain. He asked her questions about the house, when she bought it, why this one, what she'd done with the place, whether or not she liked it here, and she answered them all, laughing about how she was rarely home often enough to appreciate the place, but that her friend, Mary, had taken it upon herself (interior designer that she is), to make sure that Lily lived in house that actually looked occupied.

James laughed and said that Remus was the same way - 'He's always telling me that "introducing some architectural elements will make all the difference, James".'

Lily laughed, 'Oh my god, he sounds exactly like Mary.'

James grinned, 'Maybe they're long lost twins. And, oh my god, the way that you describe Marlene sounds exactly like Sirius. How did we end up with the same friends?'

Lily laughed, 'Maybe we just like to punish ourselves.'

James snorted, 'Probably.'

Lily grabbed a packet of crisps from the cupboard behind them, and they passed it back and forth while they settled into conversation. James told her about the speech he gave at Sirius and Remus' wedding, how Remus had been on edge the entire week before because James had teased him mercilessly about what he was going to say. Lily was in tears from laughing as he listed out all the things he'd threatened to say, became annoyingly sentimental when he told her what he _had_ said. Lily recovered by telling him about walking in on Marlene and Dorcas at least a dozen times when they lived in their med school flat together, how they'd had to establish a fucking code so that Lily could stop seeing them naked.

They'd both finished their water and half the crisps when Lily finally decided that she needed to share. She liked having him here, in her house, in her kitchen - he fit there and she wanted him to keep taking up that space.

'So,' Lily said, flushing a little bit as she looked at him while she turned to move back across the kitchen, 'I have a confession.'

James eyed her, and she sighed, opened her freezer, and gestured inside. James pushed off the end of the bench so he could see what she was pointing to, a slightly nervous look on his face, started laughing the moment it was all in view. 'How many fucking balls of dough have you got in there?!'

She flushed a bit darker, shrugged, 'A dozen maybe?'

James shook his head, still laughing, 'A _dozen!?_ '

Lily threw up her hands, 'I never have any time to make them! I've made a few and it's fucking delicious, but I never remember to take them out of the fucking freezer or I get it out thinking "oh, this will be a good day," and then I end up at the hospital for two fucking days and then I have to bin it, or - '

'Relax, Evans,' James said, and he reached out, grasped her elbow, 'it's fine. I'll just have to start coming over more often and help you get through all this dough.'

'Oh,' Lily said, smiling up at him, 'did you think that was an invitation?'

James cocked an eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging up the left side of his mouth, 'Wasn't it?'

It was.

They went to her house more often, sometimes skipping the bakery altogether and having James meet here there when she got home from work. She started getting the dough out of the freezer the night before, sending James a quick text ( _Pizza tomorrow? Remind me to set it out to rise in the AM pleaseeee x_ ), and sticking to her schedule once she got to work. It was so easy to get sucked into another surgery, onto another case, to bury herself in chart after chart, but she stepped back, scheduled appointments, gave herself permission to breathe.

It was really, really hard at first, but by mid-August, she was something of an expert. She left no later than six, unless she had a surgery that ran long, she relaxed her grip on the interns a bit, stopped spending all evening obsessing over new cases (though she had the electronic records on her work laptop if she really needed them). She was still there all day, still working her arse off, still spent most of her days in theatre, but she was home a little more now and she liked the change. She remembered to water the plants on her front step, actually watched the television programmes she was paying for, managed to make the house looked _lived in_ instead of staged for sale.

She also came to really like the way that James looked on her couch.

That night, she'd left work at half five, a true miracle, and texted James the moment she'd gotten her street clothes back on and was walking out the door (too superstitious to text him any earlier than that) - _Out of work already if you can believe it. Want me to swing by until you close or do you want to meet me at home? X_

She stuck her mobile back into her pocket, but shouldn't have bothered, because it pinged a moment later.

_I'll meet you at yours, I've roped Sirius into helping me with the cleaning and no one else should have to listen to his fucking whinging ;) xx_

Lily chuckled, turned back around on Great Ormond Street to take Boswell home instead. If she was going to meet James, she could at least take the most direct route home and get some work done before he arrived.

She grabbed a bottle of red wine as soon as she walked in the door, and dumped it into the decanter so that it could aerate while she rolled out her dough and prepped the pizza. The first time James had come over for a proper dinner, he'd laughed at her, said that they were having _pizza_ for fucks' sake and how posh was she that she had a decanter? She'd elbowed him, told him that it was a gift from Marlene and Dorcas when she bought the house, and that he could fuck right on off until he tasted the wine.

She'd been right of course. James had been annoyed until she told him how cute he looked while he was pouting and he gave it up.

The bell rang not long after she'd finished putting toppings on the pizza, and she shouted that the door was open. She heard James walk into the house and kick his shoes off, and turned around when he walked into the kitchen. He smiled at her as he crossed the room, and when he reached her, he put his hand lightly on her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek, 'Wotcher.'

He'd taken to doing this a few weeks back, ghosting his fingers over her hip, kissing her cheek - every time it happened, she barely resisted the urge to turn, just a bit, and kiss him properly. She just let her heart thump madly in her chest and did her best to spilling wine all down her front.

She grinned when he pulled back, but immediately scowled when he plucked her glass of wine out of her hand and took a long drink. 'Excuse me,' she said, and she reached up to grab it, but he extended his arm up over his head so she couldn't reach it, grinning madly at her.

She huffed, turned and grabbed herself another glass out of the cupboard. 'You're _such_ a prat,' she said, shaking her head at him, and he laughed, 'But you love me.'

She rolled her eyes, 'Lucky for you, isn't it?'

She set the pizza into the oven while James went out into the lounge to click the television on. 'What do you want to watch?'

'Uh,' she set the timer on the oven, 'what's on?'

'We can finish this episode of Dinner Date if you want,' James shouted and she rolled her eyes, grabbed the decanter off the bench and walked into the living room. 'Do you seriously _want_ to watch Dinner Date, James?'

He shrugged, 'I mean, we only have a few minutes until seven anyway.'

She sat down on the couch next to him, tucked one leg up onto the couch, took a long drink of wine, 'What comes on at seven?'

James clicked through the channel guide, 'Emmerdale… oh, old episode of Bake Off… Jamie at Home…'

She laughed, 'Whatever you want to watch, James, really. I don't care.'

He shot her a quick look, 'You sure?'

She nodded, 'I honestly don't care.'

'Bake Off it is then.'

She snorted, 'Of course.'

He just grinned.

When the timer dinged a few minutes later, James hopped up off the couch, 'I'll get it.'

Lily nodded her thanks, and a minute later, James popped back into the sitting room, the pizza tray in one hand and two plates in the other. He dropped two slices onto each plate and handed one to Lily before he leaned back onto the couch and turned a bit to face her.

'So, I took Sirius up on his offer,' James said, as he folded his slice in half, took a bite. Lily raised her eyebrow, 'Offer to….'

James covered his mouth with his hand when he answered, 'Get Remus to do drawings for the house.'

Lily set her slice back down onto her plate, 'The Notting Hill house?'

James took another bite and nodded, 'The shop is doing well and I've hired up some more staff over the past few months, so I think we could make it work,' he said, 'I just… I think it's time, you know?'

He took another bite of his pizza, but Lily didn't move to grab hers off the plate again, just kept studying him. 'What changed?'

'Huh?'

'What makes _now_ the time?'

'Oh,' he said, and his non-pizza hand jumped to his hair. 'Uh, you know,' he said, and he flushed a bit, 'I mean, it's been fourteen years.'

'Yeah,' she said, and she turned on the couch so she was facing him, crossed her legs in front of her, 'but something changed. It was fourteen years when we talked about it months ago, too.'

James sighed, set his pizza plate down onto his lap, 'You said to keep it on the table and, I'm not going to lie, I really didn't want to at first. But I've been thinking about it since we talked about it back in May.'

James took a bite of his pizza, waited for Lily to fill in the silence. When she said nothing, he just sighed at her again, 'My tenants were up at the end of July, and they'd already told me they were going to be moving. Back up to Birmingham or something, I think. So, the place was going to be coming free and I could have either rented it back out to someone or just pushed ahead and finally done something with the place. So, I uh,' he had his hand through his hair again, dropped his gaze for a moment before he looked back up at her again, 'so I did something with the place.'

James finished his pizza slice and wiped his hands on a napkin before he turned on the couch to look at her, his elbow on the back cushions, waited for Lily to say something. Again, she said nothing, just sat there, gaping a bit at him as she processed. James smiled at her, 'Do you want me to tell you that you were right?'

Lily laughed, leaned over and set her plate onto the table next to James', 'Yes, actually, if you think you have it in you.' He bit his lip to keep his smile from spreading, leaned a bit closer to her.

'Alright, Evans,' he said, 'you were right.'

She beamed, 'God, that's satisfying.' He grinned, reached out and pushed her shoulder lightly, 'Prat.'

She laughed, 'You love me, Potter.'

His expression softened as he looked at her, a slow smile spreading across face. 'Yeah, Evans,' he said, and he leaned his head onto his hand, looked at her, 'Yeah, I do.'

He studied her for a moment, and Lily watched his eyes go a touch darker, watched them move slowly over her features. She felt her breath catch, her pulse pick up speed - they'd been here before, more times than she could count, but it felt different this time.

It was _almost_ like the last time that he'd really opened up to her, when he'd trusted her with information about himself that she knew he didn't just offer up to anyone. She liked that he trusted her, that he wanted her to _know_ him, that he wanted her to be there for all the parts of his life, the easy bits, the excruciating bits, and everything in between. She understood how he felt because, when she let herself be honest about it, she felt the same way. He was the first one that she texted when things happened at work, when she woke up in the morning, whenever she had a bizarre thought that she just needed someone else to be in on.

He was there all the time, when she needed him to be and when she didn't, and instead of making her feel crowded or overwhelmed, it just felt warm. Easy.

James was pushing himself, doing this thing that she knew terrified him, that dredged up things that she knew he hadn't thought about in years, but he was doing it anyway. He knew it would be hard, that it would be hard every fucking day, but he was doing it because it was worth it.

She was tired of holding back.

'Do you want to see them?'

Lily shot him a confused look, and James clarified, 'The drawings. I brought them.'

She shook her head, scooted a bit closer to him on the couch, watching him to see how he responded to their proximity. 'No,' she said, and she moved a bit closer before she could let herself think about it too much, talk herself out of what she'd decided to do. James' eyes flicked quickly to her lips before they met hers again.

'No?'

She shook her head again, and this time she glanced down quickly at his mouth as she leaned closer, 'No.'

She heard him pull in a sharp breath, 'What do you want then, Evans?'

He was so close to her now, barely more than a foot between them, and she could still back away, could still laugh and tell him that of course she wanted to see the drawings, but she didn't want to back away, didn't want to put space between them again. She wanted to get closer, impossibly close, she wanted to feel every part of him against every part of her.

She wanted _him_. All of him, as much as he would give her.

All her objections, not having time, not having space, were complete bollocks. She _was_ busy, but her life had expanded, created room that James could occupy, and he occupied it well. She won't always be able to go out to dinner dates, sometimes she'll have to work nights and sleep all day, sometimes she'll be at the hospital for two full days in a row, but even now, even though they aren't a _thing,_ she managed to create spaces in her life that he could fill, and she liked that he was the one to fill them. He lifted the stress off her shoulders when she visited him in the evenings after a long day of work, he made her laugh, pushed her to try new things, to expand outside her comfort zone.

She'd always operated alone, had always liked that about herself. It was easier to be alone, to not have to worry about what someone else wanted or what their priorities were. But she found, with James, that she was spending more energy trying to convince herself that she still felt that way, that it was easier for her to be alone than it would be for her and James to click into place.

She wasn't foolish enough to think that it would always be easy - her work schedule would wear on them, she would sometimes seriously contemplate murder when he rolled out of bed at four in the morning, they would have to make space, and keep making space, for one another every day.

And she was still terrified and still inclined to believe that everything might fall apart, and still dreading what she had always lovingly called the "inevitable collapse," but James made her want to try.

So she tried.

She kept her eyes on his as best she could as she moved to close the distance between them, her gaze flicking between his mouth and his eyes, waiting for him to move away, watching for any sign that this was a horrible, horrible idea. When he didn't move, when all she heard was his breath picking up speed, becoming shallower the closer she got, she pressed her lips to his, lightly, chastely. She had just begun to pull away when James' hands sprung up from his sides, one gripped her waist, the other wound itself into her hair, and he pulled her mouth back to his, his tongue almost immediately darting out of his mouth and running along her bottom lip.

She groaned and he smiled against her lips. She laughed, pulled back a bit, 'Shut up,' and buried her hand in his hair, kissed him again. He grasped her hip and pulled her closer, but she shook her head, grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and tugged him forward, brought him with her as she laid back down onto the couch. He caught himself on his hand so he didn't crush her, but Lily pulled him down so he pressed into her, moaned when his body fitted against hers.

He pulled back after a moment, laughed when she pulled on his neck to kiss him again, 'Wait, wait, wait.'

She huffed and he laughed again, a low, rumbling laugh that sent chills through her. He reached up, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. She sighed, 'What am I waiting for?'

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against hers, dropped a quick kiss to her lips. She hummed against him, threaded her fingers in his hair, and ran her tongue along his lip, but he just laughed, pulled back again, just looked at her.

She sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, 'What?'

He smiled, let his thumb brush along the apple of her cheek, 'I just, uh… I really, _really_ like you, Lily. And I know our lives are kind of crazy and that now I'm going to be wallowing away all my time at a bloody construction zone, but I - I like you so bloody much, it hurts. Have for a long time.'

Her chest swelled as he spoke and he must have noticed, because his smile got infinitely brighter as he looked at her. 'And, uh… so…. Go out with me, Evans?'

She snorted, 'What do you think you prat?'

'Ah, fuck,' James said, and bit the corner of his lip, 'rejected.' He moved like he was going to push himself up and she laughed, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down.

'You're _so_ stupid.'

James grinned, kissed her once, twice, before he pulled back, hovered a breath away from her, 'Is that a yes?'

She smiled, beamed, and laughed when she felt him smile in response. 'Yes, Potter,' she said, and her lips brushed against his as she spoke, and his smile got impossibly wider, 'yes it bloody well is.'

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://elanev91.tumblr.com/)?


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